


Nous Nous Aimions Le Temps D'une Chanson

by Writers_Muse



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Aged Up, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Dancing, Everyone is older, F/M, Gabriel Agreste Is A Little Shit, Gabriel Agreste Is The Protagonist, I wrote it anyway, I'm 99 Percent Sure No One Is OK With This Pairing, One Shot, Parties, Rare Pair, Rare Pairings, Sexual Tension, Solid G Rating, Tango, Waltzing, fashion - Freeform, post-hawkmoth defeat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_Muse/pseuds/Writers_Muse
Summary: Gabriel Agreste has been increasingly lonely (and just a little bit bitter) since he was forced to surrender his miraculous.  Since then, nothing and no one has been able to keep his interest, not even his first love: fashion.Or, so he thought.Now with art by me
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Kagami Tsurugi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	Nous Nous Aimions Le Temps D'une Chanson

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hiding my face in shame that I wrote much less posted this one shot. Nonetheless, I hope if you had enough curiosity to open this story, that you do enjoy it at least a little bit!
> 
> I've been super into the idea of writing under-explored characters and pairings.
> 
> I'm like 1000% sure no one has made this pair yet.
> 
> For good reason.
> 
> ...I'm pretty sure.
> 
> ...All right then.

“Are you sure we can’t get you anything, monsieur Agreste?”

Marinette leaned over quietly, a glass of champagne held in one hand. She was never _not_ sincere. If there was anyone on Earth who was always genuine in their consideration of others, it was definitely Marinette Dupain-Cheng. With her big, bluebell eyes and delicate features, every centimeter of her being increased the magnetic pull which seemed to attract every person she encountered. She was caring, kind, beautiful, and thoughtful.

It made Gabriel Agreste a bit irritated.

“Marinette,” Gabriel returned cooly, his spine as straight as his voice was flat, “I thought I requested on multiple occasions that you call me Father.”

The blue-eyed, raven-haired woman blinked owlishly.

“We are family, after all, are we not?” he added, though there was nothing warm or familiar about his tone.

She swallowed and glanced briefly about, subconsciously pulling away. Adrien stepped closer to her, his arm already curled protectively around her lower back. The look he shot his father was scathing. The older Agreste sighed, too tired to gain any real pleasure from ruffling his daughter-in-law and too bored to bait Adrien into another veiled argument, especially in public. It was becoming like a routine, taking all the novelty out of something he enjoyed for a period of time.

Marinette’s misfortune ( _ha_ , Gabriel internally laughed at the pun) was her irreversible status as the one who took his miraculous.

Well. He did willingly surrender it.

That was beside the point, though.

It was her fault he had to give it back. It was her fault he _lost._ And Gabriel _hated_ losing.

Then she made his losing worse in the only way she could: she showed him mercy. She was kind to him.

The very thought of it made him want to scoff again. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the irony.

As for Adrien: well, he chose his wife over his father, so Gabriel argued with him any opportunity he could find. At least, for a while. But the old restlessness was coming back again--he could feel it. The restlessness that started as soon as he put on the butterfly miraculous. The one that amplified when his wife started getting sick. That grew into a fever pitch the day he handed over the only tool he knew of to save her. The one that nearly split him in two when she finally left him forever. The one that decreased to a dull ache when, realizing he could never love her like she wanted him to, Nathalie left him, too.

Emilie.

Adrien.

Nathalie.

All the people he needed most. None of them stayed by his side.

Under any other circumstances, Gabriel would adore Marinette (though he would never admit to the fact). If anything, she reminded him so much of his own wife that it was uncanny. Perhaps that’s part of what made him resent her so much. She was _too much_ like Emilie, and she took her away from him forever.

Well. He surrendered. _But still._

Her gestures of kindness, her expressions of concern and benevolence just left him feeling empty.

So he baited her. She was a strong woman, overall. If he ever pushed her too far, he knew she could very easily bite back.

(He’d never admit to relying on her to keep him in check, though.)

The strain in their relationship was probably the reason why she never acquiesced when he told her to call him Father. It was also the reason why he continued to do so.

Which brought them to the present moment.

Adrien glared at his father, Marinette the picture of composed discomfort.

Gabriel sighed again.

“Fine,” he relented, tiring, too, of this interaction. “At least call me Gabriel. Monsieur Agreste is even a bit too uncomfortable even to _me_.”

The irony of his saying so was not lost on him.

Marinette beamed like he had offered her the sun.

“Absolutely, mon- Gabriel!”

Adrien glanced back and forth between them, unsure what to do with the sudden change. Marinette plowed on.

“Is there anything we can ge-”

“No, no,” the older man replied. He pinched the isthmus of bone between his eyes in between forefinger and thumb. “I’ve had well enough already.” With some effort he gave them a strained smile, nodded, and turned to go somewhere else- anywhere else.

Events like these didn’t hold any amusement for him anymore. His love for fashion and designing had slowly withered until, though he still objectively knew good work and still created his own lines, it no longer gave him any pleasure to look on a beautiful piece of clothing.

He couldn’t even appreciate Marinette’s dress, and he had designed it.

It was a dark blue princess-style ball gown with a fitted bodice and a thick, voluminous skirt. It had a sweetheart neckline, with no straps, but around the neckline there were two strips of sheer fabric that folded over like the collar of a dress shirt. In the front, they started gradually from the slightly V-esque midline, ruffling to the sides in a consistent line until they grew thicker. At the back of the bodice, they trailed much longer, split in the middle into two tails and falling almost to brush the top of the skirt. The sheer material also covered the bodice and skirt. Underneath were dozens of Swarovski crystals bonded to the fabric of the dress. They glittered through the translucent overlay like stars in the night sky. The entire ensemble paired perfectly with her midnight hair, which was collected into a low, just-wispy-enough bun, and bluebell eyes. Small tendrils of hair framed her face. Smokey eyeshadow and wine-dark lips. She looked like a beautiful dream.

All about Gabriel were beautiful people in equally gorgeous clothes, yet he had no desire to speak to a single one of them. Grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing tray, he deftly avoided several of his equals in the industry who seemed to spot him, disappearing into the crowd before they could reach him.

He downed the glass in one go, then set it down on another passing tray. His eyes darted about the space, taking note of exits and mentally calculating how much longer he had to linger before he could acceptably take his leave.

If Nathalie were here, she would intuitively provide an excuse without him even having to ask.

Since Nathalie left, he had been through more than a dozen assistants, none of them rising up to meet the standard she set. After a while, he gave up trying to find her equal. No one was Nathalie but Nathalie.

Gabriel’s eagle eye spotted another designer who appeared to be heading in his direction. Desperate to avoid her, his eyes cast about in the area immediately surrounding him. The woman was only a few meters away and already waving a hand when, impulsively, Gabriel reached for the arm of a nearby woman. A brief, light touch to garner her attention before he let go.

“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle,” he began with a bow. He didn’t even see her face right away, but his eyes inevitably fell on the gown she was wearing. It was a deep red, column in style, but with a thigh high slit and an asymmetrical neckline. One thick swatch of fabric covered a slim, pale shoulder. The other half of the neckline curved into a strapless sweetheart. A quick glance of the dress revealed hints of Japanese accents. An obi wrapped around the waist, but instead of forming a bow at the back, the material extended upward, covering part of her back and jutting up above one shoulder. It also continued down the line of the dress all the way to the floor, forming a short train. A closer inspection showed gold threading used to embroider the outline of a dragon along the edge, paired with what appeared to be cherry blossoms. For the first time in years, Gabriel felt something stir within him at the vision before him.

He straightened, remarking to the still-unknown woman as she began to turn, “The beauty of your gown is second only to your own. Would you honor me with the pleasure of a dance?”

Finally standing at full height, Gabriel’s pale grey eyes met those of the small-statured woman he was addressing. Her deep brown eyes, framed by blue-black hair, stared widely at him. Gabriel’s jaw fell slightly in shock.

“M- Mademoiselle Tsurugi…”

She quickly schooled the surprise in her expression.

“Monsieur Agreste.” She bowed respectfully. “I had not expected the honor. Please excuse my lack of manners.”

Just then, an older woman with clearly bleached hair and a face practically disfigured by excessive plastic surgery approached.

“Gabriel!” she called out from too-thick lips and large, unnaturally white teeth. She reached for both the tense man’s arms, placing quick kisses on each of his cheeks. “You will dance with me, won’t you, darling?” she asked. Her accent was thick and Italian. Gabriel visibly swallowed.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” the short, dark-haired woman in red interrupted, bowing in the older woman’s direction. “I have already given my word to partake in the next dance with monsieur Agreste.” Her impassive face, however, showed no sign of emotion as she straightened. “Word is a matter of honor in my family. I’m afraid I cannot break that promise.”

The old blonde woman looked awkwardly between the two, then gave an uncomfortable smile and nodded, departing without another word.

Gabriel and his companion watched until she was out of sight, then he turned to face the woman beside him.

“Thank you for your assistance, mademoiselle Tsurugi. I apologize for the inconvenience.” He bowed again. “Have a wonderful rest of the evening.”

He turned to go, but as he did so, he felt a hand on his arm and stopped.

“Monsieur Agreste, I was not lying when I said word is a matter of honor to me. Or are you in the habit of perpetuating falsehood so long as it suits your purposes?”

Gabriel looked the woman still holding onto him over again. She withdrew her hand, but her stance showed no sign of retreat. Instead, it was patient, expectant.

“I beg your pardon?”

She blinked.

“You asked for a dance. Do you not intend to follow through with that proposition?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, taking in the details of her appearance. She was no longer the adolescent girl his son knew. She was taller, though not by much, and her features more defined, more mature. Her hair, which had always been cut into a short black bob with thick, straight fringe was entirely different. Now, it was short and razored, almost like a buzz cut, but a section of hair covering the crown was longer, dramatically so. It lay, wispy and messy, to one side in soft waves. Around her throat, a black choker with a red bead suited her look quite well. Gabriel swallowed, not understanding why the longer he looked at her, the more his pulse seemed to increase and his palms began to sweat.

“Pardon me,” he said at last, bowing. When he straightened, he held out a hand. “Mademoiselle, would you join me in this dance?”

Her small, delicate looking hand descended onto his, revealing black nail polish, and a few rings and a bracelet in gold. A glint brought his eyes to her left ear, where a gold orbital piercing had caught the light. Two small black plugs adorned each of her lobes.

They reached the dance floor, falling seamlessly into position. Gabriel’s hand found the small of her back, the soft silk of her dress leaving a restlessness in his fingers. In his other hand, her own rested, the opposite one aligned with his upper arm. Under the slightly dimmer lights of the dance floor, her hair seemed to glow. The blood red of her lips popped even more dramatically.

Several moments of awkward silence passed between them as they ambled deftly, gracefully about the space--a slow waltz played by the string quintet the only buffer.

Never one to be afraid of silence, Gabriel nonetheless felt the need to break it. He cleared his throat.

“Mademoiselle Tsurugi-”

“Please, we’re already generally well acquainted. You may call me Kagami.”

He nodded in acceptance of this.

“Very well. Kagami. I was… sorry to hear of the loss of your mother. Please accept my condolences.”

Kagami nodded, not missing a step of the dance.

“Thank you, monsieur Agreste. I appreciate the thought.”

“Gabriel.”

Kagami tripped but quickly regained her footing.

“Sorry.” She looked slightly down and to the side. “What was that?”

The tall, pale-blond man looked down at the small woman in his arms.

“If I am to call you Kagami,” he reasoned, “it is only fair that you call me Gabriel.”

“Duties of respect to my elders dictate that I-”

“They dictate that you obey my wishes, as long as they are not adverse to you,” he interrupted. Kagami’s jaw clapped shut.

“Of course,” she said after a pause. Then she swallowed. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel felt something swelling, warm and smothering, in his chest. He fought the urge to smile.

“Tomoe raised you well. You’ve grown into a poised, self-sufficient woman. I respect that.”

To his pleasure, her cheeks seemed to darken. 

“It’s Marinette’s, you know,” she suddenly remarked. Gabriel looked at her a moment, confused.

“The dress,” she explained. “Marinette designed the dress I’m wearing.”

Gabriel facial expression showed his understanding. 

“Now that I know, the influence of her style is unmistakable.” A beat passed. “Still,” he added. “What I said still stands. As exquisite as it is, you make it more beautiful just by wearing it.”

Kagami looked at him for a moment, then narrowed her eyes mischievously.

“If I didn’t know better, Gabriel, I would think you had ulterior motives.” The tall man blushed involuntarily. “Is that a famous line of yours?” The way she smiled at him, though, made her teasing clear.

He coughed out a laugh, self-conscious about the warmth in his cheeks and the clichéd comment he made.

“Yes, well,” he responded, still unable to meet her eyes. “I am quite old now. What is considered suave when I was young would certainly be considered banal by today’s youth.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Surprised, he raised his gaze, finding hers directed at him, open and unflinching. The closing movement of the waltz rose then, Gabriel and Kagami having joined in more than halfway through. As the final notes faded, the two of them stilled, then slowly parted. Nonetheless, Gabriel maintained a soft hold on Kagami’s hand. He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her.

“Perhaps one more song?” The words were out of his mouth before he even registered the desire.

Kagami watched him in her way before giving a single, decisive nod. They came back together, poised for another waltz, but the music that began to swell from a single violin, slowly being joined by the additional violin, the viola, the cello, and the double bass was very different than a waltz.

The pair’s eyes caught.

That was definitely a tango.

Hiding his nervousness, Gabriel stepped a little closer, bringing the hand that was cradling Kagami from behind up even further, just beneath her shoulders. He could feel the lithe lines of her body pressed against his front. With the height difference, he was forced to look down at her. She blinked at him from beneath long black lashes, then rested her temple against the side of his jaw. A pulse of electricity shot up his already straight spine and down his poised arms, out through his fingertips. As one, they moved.

Gabriel stepped forward just as Kagami stepped back, one foot crossing behind the other, repeating the move with the opposite foot, and then again. For the briefest of moments, they came to a standstill, bodies pressed against one another, Kagami’s legs crossed tightly at the ankles. Together, they pivoted and side-stepped, followed by the same step-step-step-stop-turn pattern.

As the music increased in tempo, so did their dancing. Both began to feel breathless, the pulses of their hearts racing in time with the dance and each other. Kagami began to feel that she could predict Gabriel’s movements. As they stepped together forward, backward, to the side, crossing their bodies from one side to the other, stopping and turning and starting again, she began to wonder whether it was the sound of her heart beating in her ears or his.

He took a step forward again, pausing for a fraction of a second with his leading leg bent, the other extended behind him bent as well. Without hesitation and in perfect time, Kagami mirrored him, and in one fluid motion, they stepped as one, executing the same pose in reverse. When they had completed another four count, Gabriel stood with his feet parallel, and Kagami in turns raised a knee high, placing the foot down directly in front of the other. As she continued the pattern, he stepped back to accommodate, his eyes never leaving hers.

Gabriel stepped to the side, holding his arms loosely around her body as she spun one, two, three times against him, her arms rising upward, then falling back to his own. She twirled away and then into him, lifted by his hand on her waist and spun around. When she landed, her hands were around his neck, his on her ribs. They looked in opposite directions, then switched, then turned back again, all the while stepping forward, backward, to the side in tandem. 

One hand of each still connected, Kagami circled him, was spun outward again and then, as her body twisted on its way back to his, felt the impending dip. She crashed against him, her leg on his hip held by his hand as, with the other, he clutched her body tightly to him. Her back arched intuitively, her neck relaxing and allowing her head to fall back in apparent ecstasy. She could feel the tip of his nose brush against her chest, his breath tickling her sternum. Then he was pulling her toward him, her back snapping with the sudden force of his strength. As though it was the most natural thing, she grabbed the back of his neck with her right hand. The closeness of their proximity caused his lips to brush against her heated forehead, and she realized as the music stopped that she was panting.

It felt like coming back to her body. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Gabriel allowed the leg he had in his grasp to slide down until both her feet were planted on the floor, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on her waist. He swallowed, trying to catch his breath, as he searched her partially hidden face. Her eyes drifted up to his, bright but dazed and so, so captivating. He was just about to lean in when applause around them erupted.

They startled apart, the two of them suddenly aware that not only were they the only pair on the floor, but everyone in the room was watching their every move and had been for most of the dance. Kagami schooled her features, masking the passion that had made them so incandescent just moments before. With a practiced air, she smoothed her dress under her hands, surreptitiously finger combed her hair into order, and bowed to the throng.

Then she walked toward the crowd, which parted slightly for her before closing around her again.

Gabriel watched Kagami go until he could see her no more, having completely forgotten the reason for the dance.

Subterfuge.

A way to hide until he could make his escape.

As her pale skin wrapped in scarlet red disappeared from his sight, there was only one thought at the forefront of his mind.

And leaving wasn’t it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!
> 
> <3 Muse
> 
> P.S. If you're curious about Marinette's dress, it's something like this dress https://metro.co.uk/2016/05/05/it-took-6-people-600-hours-to-make-claire-danes-light-up-cinderella-dress-5860428/ but in a dark blue with a sheer overlay and crystals shining through.
> 
> Kagami's hair is something like this: https://i2.wp.com/www.short-hairstyles.co/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/Cute-Short-Haircut-for-Women.jpg but obviously a blue-black color.


End file.
